Camelots Favourite Knight

Besides, his date was late. Barely a few minutes, which he would normally not care about. But he didn’t want to be here. How long did he need to wait before leaving, without it coming off as rude? Without his friends chewing him out for it later? He sighed, rolled his shoulders and slouched back into the couch. His eyes wandered around the small cafe. It wasn’t much. A few tables, a wall showing off all coffee bean flavours, several big windows and a small counter for coffee and cakes. It was basic. Simple wooden tables and chairs, decorations that look like someone took the most basic Pinterest board as inspiration and made it boring. But it was close by to him, and familiar. The cafe was bustling with people. Most tables were taken, a few people were standing around, and baristas behind the counter were working hard to take orders. It was frustrating. Who was he even looking for?

“We do still have a table free over there?” “Oh great! Though one moment, please. You see, I’m waiting for someone. However, I don’t know who that someone is, which you can totally blame on my friends. So then it would be awkward if he were already at a table and I went to find my own.” A very familiar voice washed over Ryan. It didn’t take him long to find the owner of that voice, one he would recognise everywhere. “Just give me a moment while I get my phone out of my pocket, and don’t drop it in the process. I swear those things are purposely slippery.” For a moment, it felt as if Ryan’s whole world stopped. As if someone had pushed the pause button on life. Dylan was there. Standing there, in the middle of the shop. Phone in his right hand, supported by the stump of his left. That was his fault. His hair was a little bit longer than Ryan remembered, but still as styled as before. Comfortable sneakers and jeans that he wore, no matter the weather. Ryan felt his heart beating in his throat as he attempted to swallow. With shaky hands, he reached for his own phone, almost losing grip of it, and he had two hands! Quickly wiped his hands down his pants so he could actually type. ‘Please tell me you didn’t. Not him!’ ‘Yes, him.’ ‘KAITLYN’ ‘You always liked him, I don’t see what the problem is.’ ‘I ruined his life! Ruined it!’ ‘Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, the best moment to apologise! Or even better, kiss and make up!’

“Ryan?” It was Dylan’s voice, sounding almost hopeful. It broke his heart even more. Dylan shouldn’t look forward to seeing him again. Ryan bit the inside of his cheek. Now what? The truth was, he wanted nothing more than to see and talk to Dylan. But how could he? He locked his phone and placed it on the table before looking up. He attempted to smile, but wasn’t sure what kind of smile it ended up being. The mixed feelings of happiness at seeing Dylan and sadness at what happened. “So, you’re my set-up?” Ryan ended up saying, having no clue how else to respond. Getting up and just hugging the man? Thanking him for not running away the second he spotted Ryan? He even sounded almost like the Dylan he knew before everything went to hell. He started to play with the hem of his shirt, unsure of what to do next. “Okay, hold on, let me guess. You’re still friends with Kaitlyn?” “Same college.” “Well, there you have it! We’re still friends and texting. This seems like just the thing for her to do,” Dylan chuckled as he sat down opposite Ryan. Ryan bit his lip but couldn’t really contain his smile. “She’s been complaining that I need to go out and meet new people, Jada, Jada, you know how she is. Though ironically, I don’t think this counts! After all, this isn’t meeting new people. But you won’t hear me complaining.” Ryan, however, was going to complain to her. He wasn’t ready for this. How was he supposed to apologise? How could he ever make it up to him.

“You’ve been here before? What are some good beverages?” Dylan asked. Ryan couldn’t help but watch in slight fascination as to how Dylan was handling the menu. He picked up one side of the menu and pulled it upwards. He swerved it around before laying it down again. It made him very conscious about the fact that he could just pick it up, and fold it open. Using both hands. Which he did, and never felt this conscious about before. “Ryan?” Ryan looked up when Dylan said his name. It took him a second to realise he hadn’t answered and was just staring instead. “Sorry, yeah, I-just..” He stumbled over his words. Ryan groaned and ran a hand over his face. Dylan was asking him a simple question! Why couldn’t he answer it! Ryan looked up when he felt a weight on the hand still holding the menu. Dylan had reached out and given him a crooked smile. “Or. Maybe. We need to talk first? Which isn’t my strongest quality. Well, no, that’s not true. I’m great at talking, but that’s usually nonsense. Or some stupid jokes or whatever. Not really these types of talks. But yeah, we might need to,” Dylan said, and Ryan just felt his whole posture crumble. “What is there to talk about, Dyl. I ruined your life,” “And here I thought I was the dramatic one-“ “Dylan. I cut your hand off! You’re missing a hand because of me! Who knows how much trouble you have to go through in your daily life! Let alone doing things you always loved to do! Like tinkering with technology and what not! And for what!? It wasn’t necessary at all!” he ranted in an angry whisper hiss. His eyes were desperately fluttering across Dylan’s face as if he could find the pain hidden there. While also, desperately, trying to hold his composure, hold himself in. Otherwise, he would end up crying. And he wasn’t even the one who was hurt!

“What can I get you guys?” Ryan removed his hand from underneath Dylan’s and sat back. He pressed his lips tightly together as he let out a deep breath. That had gone horribly. From all the scenarios he’d ever come up with, this hadn’t been one of them. It wasn’t even an apology. He watched Dylan. The man was using his right hand to point at something on the menu. But that wasn’t where his eyes went. His left wrist was in the air, with something light beige covering the end and further up his wrist. Dylan was waving it around as he normally did, using his hands to talk. But without the hand this time. “And for you?” Ryan looked up and noticed the barista’s attention on him. Wearing the company's clothes, she had a blond ponytail, a bored look on her face, and was holding an order pad. “Iced cappuccino, please,” he ordered, knowing it was on the menu, not bothering to look through it again. “Anything with it?” “No, I’m good,” he said, fake smile on his face. “Alright, it will be there in a moment,” she replied and walked away. Leaving both of them in an awkward silence.

“Listen, Ryan.” Ryan looked up. Dylan had an intense look on his face and didn’t avert his eyes. For some reason, he couldn’t either. Dylan was still gorgeous, and the knots in his stomach were still there. As if they were back at the campfire before it all went to hell. “It’s absolutely fucked up, what happened, alright? I’ve got trauma. I’m seeing a therapist. I’ll not claim that everything is fine and dandy, because it’s not,” Dylan started, and his voice was strained. Ryan hated it. His gaze was drawn downwards as Dylan, once again, grabbed Ryan’s left hand with their right. Mostly, he noticed how Dylan’s left stump hovered, as if he automatically wanted to do the same. For a second, Ryan hesitated. Would it be weird? What would Dylan think of it? In the end, he moved his right hand towards the middle of the table and laid it down, palm up. Uncertain, he looked up and saw the surprise in Dylan's face. His face, it was so expressive. He’d missed looking at it. He watched Dylan slowly move his left arm forward. Until the wrist, or what was left of it, was in Ryan's hand. Carefully, uncertain how much it would hurt or how much Dylan would even feel, he closed his hand around it. The stump was covered in something, which had a strange rough feel to it. He ignored it, the best he could, and almost unconsciously started moving his thumb. “I’ve never blamed you for it, though. I need you to know that,” Dylan continued, though his voice was a lot softer than before. Ryan looked up and noticed the glassy look in his eyes. It took him a moment for the words to register, but he was quick to shake his head. “How! How can you not blame me? I was supposed to keep you all safe, you heard Mr H. And I failed miserably at that! Kaylee died. Chris died. Silas died. You lost your hand. Nick turned into a werewolf for fucks sake!” he whispered before clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth. “Yeah, which was kind of an unfair task, wasn’t it! Chris knew exactly what was running around out there, but didn’t warn any of us. Just expected you to keep us safe? Somehow? By just simply hoping you could? Besides, how were you supposed to keep a group of stubborn twenty-something-year-olds listening when he couldn’t do so either?” Dylan countered. Ryan knew those things were true, yet he continued to feel like he failed everyone. As if he could’ve tried harder. After all, he’d barely argued with them about having a campfire party. “Besides, if that’s how you want to play this blame game. Let’s start with Jacob, who messed with the car. Emma who broke up the group because of her games. The Hacketts for keeping werewolves in the first place? Max and Laura for going to the camp a day early? Blame Caleb and Kaylee for helping a werewolf escape in the first place? Do you want me to continue?” Dylan said, and suddenly sounded a lot more certain of himself than before. Dylan's hand was squeezing his, a comforting gesture. The words were anything but comforting. They were true, conversations he’d had with his therapist as well. But it was so difficult to believe them. He should’ve, could’ve done more that night. “Also, I did kinda ask you to cut off my hand,” “Oh for fucks sa-“ “No, but I did! Quite literally begged you to do it!” “You were just bitten and in complete panic, how is that fair?” “Oh, so I was panicking? How about you? Think that is the same for you, right? Why am I excused and not you for the same thing?” Dylan replied and gave Ryan a most unimpressed look. Ryan shifted for a moment as he looked down, not happy with the response he got. Or maybe because Dylan had a point, and it was difficult to admit.

“Your iced cappuccino.” The barista arrived and placed the drink in front of him. Almost reluctantly, he let go of Dylan, pulling both his hands back. “Hot chocolate and cheesecake.” She disappeared as quickly as she arrived. For a moment, Ryan continued to stare at his drink. He needed a moment to think. What did he want? Out of this meeting and in general? What was a way they could go forward? If he was truthful with himself, he wanted to keep on meeting Dylan. Of course, he wanted to. It was one thing he always regretted, though he wouldn’t have known how to apologise or start that conversation. But could they move on? Move forward? “You don’t have to solve world hunger in one coffee date,” Dylan chuckled. Ryan took a sip as he glanced upwards. He watched as Dylan carefully ate a piece of his cheesecake. Wrist holding back the plate as he picked up pieces with his fork. How difficult was it to get used to? Life with just one hand? “Hm. So it’s a date now? Not a setup?” he couldn’t help but tease. If Dylan wanted to steer the conversation away, he could comply. Dylan smirked at him and pointed with his fork. “I’ll let you know I’m quite the catch. And you will have to catch me, because I can’t. Turns out that it is quite difficult with just one hand and no coordination skills whatsoever,” Dylan said, and Ryan couldn’t help but snort. He chuckled as he rolled his eyes a little. “Neither do I have the patience for fishing! Before you say ‘there’s plenty of fish in the sea!’ Well, there’s plenty of trash too! Also, one-handed fishing sounds even worse. How would that even work?” Ryan knew he had a goofy smile on his face. One Dylan was always able to manifest. A smile that hadn’t appeared in quite a while. He sloughed a bit in his seat, making himself comfortable, letting Dylan ramble. The topic had, somehow, moved to myths about the Titanic. He had no clue how Dylan had even arrived at that topic, but it didn’t matter. Listening to Dylan beats listening to any podcast. “Isn’t there like a Maritime museum close by?” he commented, the moment Dylan took a sip.

“Uhm, yeah? Like half an hour from here? Why?” Dylan asked, confusion clear on his face. “Well, sounds like a good place for our next date? You can tell me all about it. Thought they had a section about the Titanic, too.” Ryan quickly took a big sip himself. Worried he’d just embarrassed himself. “You wo-oh. Oh! Yeah! I mean that.. I would love to! Though if you would like a different topic, there are several other great museums around,” Dylan replied, and Ryan noticed the chewing of the lips. They were both nervous. But seemingly, both wanted it. “Then I’ll leave it up to you to find a great museum for the next date,” he boldly said with a short nod. “What were you saying about the Titanic again?” “Oh, yeah! Well -“

“Like Alof being my right-hand man. And you being my left,” he stated, as if it was such an obvious statement to make. Rome grinned as he pulled Mok’s hand back towards his heart. His heart, which was beating fast, was beating for Mok. “Besides, being my left-hand man means you’re closer to my heart. Which has been yours for years anyway.” “Rome-“ “I mean it!” “I know,” Mok chuckled, and it sounded like music to his ears. “Would you please move closer? I can’t bend forward right now.” Rome’s heart stopped for a second. His grin dropped, and he could only stare for a moment. Was Mok actually implying what he thought he was? When his reaction wasn’t quick enough, he could feel a pull on his hand. Yes, yes, it was exactly what he thought it was. He leaned with his free hand on the bed, next to Mok’s face, as he moved his body closer. This was happening. This was truly happening. His heart was ready to jump out of his chest as he moved closer. His gaze moved from Mok’s eyes, to his lips and back. Those lips he finally got to claim as his.

“So, I’ve had this brilliant idea, Mok.” A loud voice came from the entrance of the room, followed by the door hitting the wall. Rome cursed, loudly, as he dropped his head carefully against Mok’s shoulder. A shoulder that was very obviously shaking. “I am going to murder him.” “No, you will not. Murder isn’t always the answer.” “True. Murder is the question, yes is the answer!” “Rome, behave,” Mok’s voice sounded light, and a chuckle could be heard. At least one of them saw the fun in it. Rome, on the other hand, was counting backwards from a hundred, in an attempt to find patience somewhere. “Oh! Am I interrupting something?” “Yes!” “It’s fine, Khun Thee,” Mok replied, and Rome just yelled against Mok’s shirt, muffling most of it. “Yes, yes, you are interrupting something, Khun Thee.” That voice belonged to Peach. With a groan, Rome lifted his head and looked behind him. His brother had halted mid-step, his confusion slowly morphing into a grin. Behind him was Peach, quickly catching up to Kian and reached for his hand. That seemed to work effectively. As Kian looked down surprised. “We’ll drop by later, Mok!” Peach called out as he was dragging Kian out of the room, to Rome’s relief. “Don’t do any straining activities! Both of you!” “Oh, they fit together way too well,” Rome groaned as he let his head carefully drop onto Mok’s shoulder again. He liked it there. “Yeah, they do,” Mok chuckled, and Rome could feel his shoulder move again. He couldn’t help but smile as well. If this was going to be their new normal.. Then he couldn’t complain. He would get his revenge. But it was a comfortable reality to be in.